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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676388">The Rockrose and The Thistle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorableNihilist/pseuds/AdorableNihilist'>AdorableNihilist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Bards, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Mages, Magic, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swordfighting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:23:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorableNihilist/pseuds/AdorableNihilist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She was singing to a sizable group of people who'd gathered around the fountain in the square, standing on the edge of the stone pool and crooning down to them, when a familiar pair of eyes locked onto her own from across the space. Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly she couldn't remember the next line and her fingers fumbled, ruining the chord. She tore her gaze away and tried to recover, but the mistake had been glaringly obvious and a few of the people at the back of the group began to wander off to finish their errands, leaving no coin in their wake.</p>
<p>~~~<br/><br/>Despite it being years since their last contact, Adora and Catra have always know each other intimately.<br/><br/>Catra has some dark secrets that even Adora doesn't know, though.</p>
<p>Historical-Fantasy-AU in which Catra is a famous bard and Adora is a fighter/knight-in-training.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chance Encounters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SombraSwitch/gifts">SombraSwitch</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This AU is mostly Dragon-Age/Elder Scrolls inspired, but there's a ton of random high-fantasy tropes from all my faves like D&amp;D, The Witcher and LOTR. See if you can catch all of the nerdy references I'm absolutely going to be unable to stop myself from including.</p>
<p>This thing is probably going to be a mess with a bunch of stuff that's not even remotely close to being from the same historical time period, because I have no interest in realism. I'm going for A Knight's Tale levels of historical-inaccuracy because "go big or go home" right?</p>
<p>There will be a fair amount of cursing, some violence/murder, and possibly some spiciness later on. I'll change warnings and the rating accordingly, but I don't think this one will include any outright smut.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong> <span class="u">Chance Encounters</span> </strong> </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She lifted her cowl over her hair and ears, squatting on the windowsill and looking out into the night. The moons were full tonight, bathing everything in the etherial blue-silver glow of an Etherian midnight.</p>
<p>The witching hour, the waking hour, the hour of the hunt. <em>Her favorite hour</em>.</p>
<p>Her tail swished as she rebalanced herself against a sudden gust of autumn wind, her reflexes still a little dull from her busy night in the tavern. A sparkling blue orb glanced back over a dark-leather-clad shoulder and landed upon the instrument case peeking out from below the rented bed. Long, fearsome-clawed digits flexed in automatic response as they recalled all the strings they'd plucked that night. She'd been several pitchers deep in barleywine and ale after just the first few hours. The crowd had grown to a pretty considerable size early on and they'd kept the drinks flowing for as long as she'd played.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She did so love ending up in a particularly generous, small town. She tended to play a more rowdy, bawdy set for smaller inns like this. They'd dance and yell and pour and she'd drink and play and dance until she had to call a stop for sore fingers and a raw voice. The night usually ended with massive tips beyond the bought food and drink, and she never complained when the stay in towns like this one amounted to more than one night. Depending on how well she did her work tonight, she might be able to spend another night or more here before returning to Shadowhall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tugged a burgundy mask up over her face, obscuring everything but her eyes, then pulled her cowl closer to her brow and leapt noiselessly from the window of her room at the inn. She tucked her legs, rolling herself to direct the energy of her fall and landed with all the practiced grace of a thief from the second story of the building. No one would wonder at her window being open all night in the lovely weather and there was no way to access the room from it without an inhuman level of agility. She'd locked her door, so her lute would be safe there for the evening. It was much better than the times she'd had to stash it in a hurry in some open field or hole in a tree trunk so she could do more of Shadow Weaver's dirty work in a more uncivilized place.</p>
<p>She sprinted down the side-alleys she'd scouted earlier, occasionally jumping over barrels or crates to warm up her legs for another good leap. She'd have to jump from the roof of the abbey to reach the Count's private balcony. She'd thought about going in an accessible window or door on the lower floor, but the amount of house-staff made her think better of it. The balcony was the most direct route and the obvious choice, but the issue in this instance was that the roof of the abbey was a good measure from the Count's balcony, and there was a stone wall between the two that had the potential to break her jump and <em>possibly</em> her jaw if she miscalculated.</p>
<p>The jump up onto the roof of a small neighboring house was easy enough, and the leap from there to the lower-roof of the Cathedral wasn't terribly difficult. The difference between the lower-roof and the roof above the clerestory was a little larger. She needed to grasp the edge of this upper-roof and pull herself up, but her height (or lack thereof) was just a touch shy of being enough to make it simple. She managed. She always did. The gargoyles made wonderful footholds.</p>
<p>In swift feet that padded silently across the tiled roof she trusted her fate and leapt, tail serving to balance her as she glided across the vacancy of the night sky, a shadow against the starry backdrop. The landing was rough, but she salvaged it and avoided making any noticeable noise or disturbing any of the potted plants studded across the thick stone balustrade. The wind was in her favor tonight, blowing hard enough in the late fall to cover any of the few soft sounds she made with the musical rustling of leaves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Winter would be here soon and she'd be spending more time living as a bard and less time sneaking between buildings and stabbing and nabbing things, much to Shadow Weaver's (usual) displeasure. She refused to take as many contracts during the winter and it had always irked the old hag. But Catra <em>couldn't</em> be made to travel far during the winter, when the roads were all slow and agonizing with their deep, frozen ruts; or when the snow and ice seeped into her very <em>bones</em> and sapped all her will to move. She could make <em>good</em> money in the winter if she holed up in the right town and traveled only when the place she was in tired of her songs (that never happened) or she tired of their crowds (that sometimes happened, usually after she'd slept with the wrong person's wife or punched someone she'd not known was important after a few too many rounds and rowdy sets).</p>
<p>Inns had fires and drinks and beds to keep warm, and money could be made playing and solidifying her name as a bard. That was the only reason that Shadow Weaver ever allowed her to stay away from 'home' for longer than a few weeks at a time. As much as she liked to have Catra under her thumb, she wasn't stupid. It worked in their favor to build her a reputation as a talented and famed performer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There are plenty of shadows to hide in as soon as you step out of the spotlight. The world behind the curtains can be dark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The contract was easy enough to fulfill tonight. The Count didn't even bother locking his balcony door. There wasn't any reasonable need to.</p>
<p>Catra had never felt the need to be <em>reasonable</em>, though, and so didn't let that deter her from her task.</p>
<p>She was in and out in a matter of moments, the Count's body already cooling in his bed and the letter she needed tucked safely into one of the pockets of her oiled leather armor. This letter would <em>hopefully</em> be enough to buy her a peaceful winter hiatus without too terribly much bitching from the <em>matriarch</em>. Only time would tell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She'd <em>far</em> rather spend the winter in some random city at the other edge of the map from the 'Fright Zone', playing her lute and drinking mead and wine and ale. Sleeping in the silk-cushioned beds of the grand taverns there rather than her bare quarters in the underground Guildhouse. She frequently had warm company in those silk-cushioned beds.</p>
<p>She'd only ever had a single warm companion in the Fright Zone, and it had been a <em>long</em> time since she'd spoken to <em>her</em>. They'd nicknamed it the “Fright Zone” as children when they listened to the howling of night creatures in the distance and the occasional chanting of Acolytes passing through the halls. Everything about the Horde of Shadows and their keep was cold and dark like the deep of night time, and she'd resigned herself to it at this point.</p>
<p>She could find warmth with any number of other women in any of the cities she played in. She tried not to think too much about how none of them would ever be a beacon like <em>she</em> had. They could warm the lonely nights, but they never did manage to light them up like her. She was always in the dark. It had become her home, and would likely someday become her lonesome grave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She arrived back at her room to find it undisturbed and settled herself for a few hours' sleep before daylight. She usually made her best money playing in the early evening and through to the night, but it never hurt to wander town during the day and spread word at the market about her set that night. She occasionally stopped to play in the square when the mood struck her, and people appreciated it enough to toss a few coins her way. It was always enough to buy her lunch and usually she had enough leftover to purchase another night's board. It had been years since she'd struggled as a bard, her reputation and skill enough now that she lived a bit more comfortably on her own, outside the Horde's reach.</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>She was singing to a sizable group of people who'd gathered around the fountain in the square, standing on the edge of the stone pool and crooning down to them, when a familiar pair of eyes locked onto her own from across the space. Her breath caught in her throat and suddenly she couldn't remember the next line and her fingers fumbled, ruining the chord. She tore her gaze away and tried to recover, but the mistake had been glaringly obvious and a few of the people at the back of the group began to wander off to finish their errands, leaving no coin in their wake.</p>
<p>She finished the song half-heartedly and was irked to see that only a few people left payment of any small sort, before the throng dispersed and she was left searching the square for the owner of the icy stare she'd had so much trouble looking away from. They were long gone, no sign of them anywhere nearby the busy stalls, and Catra wondered if it had been her imagination. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been haunted by the memories of her past and thoughts of what might've been, and it likely wouldn't be the last. She heaved a sigh of resignation and decided to pack up her lute and head back to the inn for lunch. Maybe the market square would be friendlier to her in a few hours' time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adora heard a familiar old voice playing a familiar even-older ballad off in the distance. She focused in on it and followed it toward the square, peering around stalls and finding a large crowd gathered near the central fountain.</p>
<p>A bard was playing the lute there, singing a cautionary tale meant to entertain and frighten children. It had been a popular tune for decades, many different variations played across Etheria. She'd heard nearly all of them in her travels. She'd heard the most particularly gruesome version in her very own youth in the 'Fright Zone'.</p>
<p>Adora watched for a long moment, in disbelief at <em>who</em> that bard was, before she looked up from the crowd at her feet and caught Adora's gaze as though she'd felt her staring. Adora gasped audibly, a lump forming in her throat and her senses slamming into overdrive. Her heart galloped along like an angry wild horse and screamed at her to run, though she found her feet rooted firmly to the spot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As if he'd known that Adora would suddenly be under a spell and unable to remove herself from this place, Bow came around the corner and grasped her elbow, leaning in close to whisper to her as he led her away. “<em>We need to go speak with the Count's wife and Chancellor Ocato. They've got a quest for us.</em>” Adora barely heard him over the drumming of her own pulse in her ears and nodded numbly, turning with great effort to follow Bow as he headed for the castle across town. She didn't know if she could bring herself to try and find that bard again later.</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe it'd be best not to. </em>
</p>
<p>It had been so many years and yet the wound was still so fresh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perhaps it had just been her mind playing tricks on her out of boredom. Perhaps her ghosts just wished to rear their heads to remind her of her wrongs.</p>
<p>The chances of running into <em>Catra</em>, here in this speck-on-the-map town, were <em>incredibly</em> slim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been a while since they'd had a good job to entertain and challenge her. Maybe it would distract her from thoughts of lost opportunities and lost friends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Glimmer met them at the Count's grand home, waiting in the courtyard with the valet. She was leaned against a stone pillar and tossing a sparkling magic orb between her hands idly to entertain herself, the valet watching silently in a mix of concern and curiosity. Adora swatted playfully at her arm and chided her for wasting her energy on idle games. Glimmer rolled her eyes and let the magic fizzle out of existence just as the valet was turning to lead them inside. “Chancellor Ocato and her ladyship the Countess Caro are waiting in the parlor.”</p>
<p>They had a brief and polite-but-tense conversation with the pair. Countess Alessia seemed to be in legitimate mourning over her husband's death, tearfully begging them to find his killer and bring them to justice. She hastily offered any price they asked but the Chancellor interrupted to insist that she not be ridiculous and set a hard limit of six-hundred gold crowns. That would end up leaving them somewhere around five-hundred crowns and a handful of silver moons after they paid their tab at the inn and refreshed their supplies. They'd left Brightmoon with a fair amount of supplies, so theoretically they could manage on that much until they found their next odd-job.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They could always return to Brightmoon and beg pity and coin from Queen Angella, but Glimmer's pride wouldn't let them. To return too soon or to ask for assistance would be to admit failure. They'd been sent to recruit the leaders of the neighboring kingdoms to Angella's cause and Glimmer had already proven that she was willing to do <em>anything</em> to secure their word, without <em>any</em> sort of sponsorship from the crown. They'd run on all sorts of bizarre quests to prove their mettle to the Countess of Alwyn but it had proven to be worth their time when she'd agreed to join Angella's alliance. Glimmer had been beamingly proud to have done it on their own, too, and Adora couldn't deny that there was honor in it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Glimmer had not made her true identity known to anyone aside from Bow and Adora since they'd left the safety of home. She refused to ride on the privilege of her title and also insisted that it was to keep them safe.</p>
<p>Anonymity <em>was</em> in their favor right now.</p>
<p>The Crown Princess of Brightmoon openly and brazenly running around all of Etheria with a single ranger and a single green-horned knight would be a loud request to be kidnapped and held as ransom. Instead they were simply a team of adventurers with no titles beyond their skillsets, sent by the Queen to speak on her behalf with the gentry of the surrounding lands and offer them her terms.</p>
<p>Etheria had been engulfed in the war between Brightmoon and the Horde for nearing a decade. The three of them had grown up in the chaos of battle-torn lands that were tossed back and forth between rulers like leaves on the breeze.</p>
<p>Angella hoped to settle it all once and for all now, with the support of her neighbors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They left the Countess's home with very little information to go on, hoping against hope that they could solve this puzzle and secure their alliance with her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">This is what they knew thus far:</span>
</p>
<p>The Count had gone to bed after his post-supper brandy, as he did every night.</p>
<p>The Countess had been in the library painting, as she usually did on quiet evenings such as last night.</p>
<p>No one else had been at the manor besides house-staff, all of whom had been employed by the Caro family for years and were well-trusted.</p>
<p>The Count had no real enemies, political or otherwise, that anyone knew of. He lived a quiet life and minded his own, never straying far from his lands or putting his nose into affairs that didn't directly impact his small hold and its people.</p>
<p>They were relatively young and had no children, thus no heirs who might be impatient to receive their title and wealth. (Besides his wife, but she seemed really rather too distraught to have been the culprit. She'd hired them after all.)</p>
<p>He'd been found in his bed this morning by his valet, his throat slit.</p>
<p>Everything else in his chambers had been seemingly undisturbed, all of his jewelry and valuables still in place.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Bow sighed and patted at his horse's flank as they meandered back to the inn. “I don't get it...he doesn't seem worth murdering. Why would someone kill him? They didn't even steal anything...”</p>
<p>Glimmer chewed at her lip, glaring at the road ahead in deep concentration. Adora shrugged and leaned back in her saddle, stretching. “I don't know...maybe they did steal <em>something</em>, just not <em>everything</em>. I mean, he <em>did</em> have a lot of jewels. Maybe someone nipped a few but left the rest...”</p>
<p>Glimmer rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Why go to the trouble? If you get caught with one stolen ruby you get punished all the same as if you're caught with a thousand. If you're going to go to all the trouble of <em>murdering</em> someone to <em>steal</em>something you take as much as you can carry.” She paused, staring up at the bright, cloudless autumn sky above them. “No. They'd have taken it all unless they were interrupted, which they weren't. Meaning they weren't there for jewels...What could be worth killing someone besides money?”</p>
<p>Adora tapped her chin, thinking for a long moment. “Secrets? It seems like he was a pretty boring guy to have a murder-worthy secret, though...”</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Their horses secured in the rented stables and properly fed and watered, the trio meandered into the inn to find their supper. They'd stay one or two more nights here at least, until they either solved the murder or found a clue worth following.</p>
<p>They sat down at a booth in the back of the hall, the din of the busy tavern drowning out any attempts at true conversation for now.</p>
<p>The barmaid came over, plopping down tankards full of ale and a platter laden with roasted duck, vegetables and brown, crusty bread. Another wench ran behind her with her own tray full of dirty dishes, leaning close to speak as she passed. “The bard is about to go on!” Their maid beamed and turned back to them. “Oh, you're in for a treat, then! We've a famous bard visitin' our little town. She's got a voice like an angel.” With that she swept away, eager to be on with her work so she might find a few moments free to truly enjoy the entertainment later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bow clapped his hands in excitement. “Oh, dinner and a show! How lucky for us.” Glimmer tore a chunk off of the loaf of bread and was about to tuck in when she caught sight of Adora across the table. She was paler than usual, her face suddenly drawn in what could only be described as fear. “Are you alright, Adora?”</p>
<p>She responded by refusing to respond, settling instead on tipping back her tankard and draining it dry in a few great gulps. Bow blanched, his own drink still sitting securely on the tabletop. “Adora? What's gotten into you?” She reached over and snatched his ale from his hands, slugging it and slamming the empty vessel down on the table with a resounding 'thud' before he'd even fully processed her theft. “<em>Nothing</em>.” The uncharacteristic venom in her tone set them both on edge, leaving them to stare at each other in confusion as no further explanation came. “What the hell, Adora? Do you not like music or something?”</p>
<p>Before she could answer the cacophony of the diners' noise died down to a whisper. Bow and Glimmer turned their bodies a little to face the far wall of the hall, where the huge fireplace was roaring away. A stunning young woman with a lute had just stepped up onto the small dais and was clearing her throat to begin. Adora sat stone-still, her back turned to the sight that everyone else seemed to be eager to drink in.</p>
<p>The bard spoke, her tone honeyed and smooth. “Good evening, everyone! I hope you're all enjoying this lovely weather and the lovely offerings here.” She winked dramatically at one of the nearby barmaids, who flushed and giggled to herself under the attention. “I'll play a few of my favorites and then I'll take requests, if anyone has any.” She stood in the center of the small stage and raised her lute to her chest, strumming with well-rehearsed movements.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If I drink water while this doth last,</p>
<p>May I never again drink wine-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The bard started out singing slowly, leaning out toward the crowd and making a point of catching their gazes, speaking the first few lines as though she were having a personal conversation.</p>
<p>“For how can a man, in his life of a span,</p>
<p>Do anything better than dine?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suddenly her voice was boisterous and she was grinning around her words, sharp fangs peering from behind burgundy-stained lips. Her mis-matched eyes were alight as her volume and tempo built until she was nearly yelling the words of the familiar drinking song with some of the patrons who now joined in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We'll dine and drink, and say if we think</p>
<p>That <em>anything</em> better can be</p>
<p>And when we have dined, wish all mankind</p>
<p>May dine as well as we!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The patrons cheered and she bowed slightly. “Oh, <em>c'mon now</em>, that's not even one of my own! You're all <em>too</em> kind!” She quite frequently started out the evenings in taverns like this one by singing familiar old songs that everyone had heard at one point or another. When she sang songs that everyone could sing along with it made them more familiar and eventually rowdy, which made them drink more, which in turn made their purse-strings just a little looser.</p>
<p>Next was a popular shanty that she'd played probably a thousand times after picking it up on the coast during her early years performing and finding it invaluable to her success.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bow turned back to Adora now, curious if her mood had improved. Glimmer followed suit to find that it had not. She was tearing into her food like it had personally wronged her, her head ducked low over the table. She made quick work of her entire meal before either of them had the wherewithal to speak.</p>
<p>Bow found his voice first, whispering across the booth at her glowering face. “Adora, what's gotten into you?” She glared down at her empty mug, then his, before her eyes landed on Glimmer's where it rested in her hands, just out of reach. “<em>Nothing. I'm fine</em>.” She hissed, contemplating taking Glimmer's half-full tankard from her very grasp. She settled instead on reaching out toward the next passing wench and catching her around the hip, tugging her close so she could swipe one off of the full tray she was carrying. The barmaid blushed and giggled in surprise, then nodded and scuttled off to continue her work.</p>
<p>Adora tipped the cup back and guzzled it, rivulets of barleywine running down her chin and disappearing into the collar of her tunic. Glimmer snorted out a laugh. “<em>Ye Gods</em>, Adora, slow down! Are you trying to get absolutely pissed before it's even dark out?” Adora slammed the wooden cup down so forcefully that she nearly broke the handle clean off, looking un-amusedly across the booth through narrowed eyes at her companion. “<em>Yes</em>, Glimmer, as a matter of fact <em>I am</em>.” Her voice rumbled lowly out of her chest in a threatening growl and Glimmer leaned away, taken aback by the venom.</p>
<p>Bow put a hand up to break their eye contact silently. The only sound for a moment was the melodic singing and low talking of the crowd coming from across the heavily-populated room. “Adora, do <em>not</em> speak to Glimmer that way. We're merely concerned. As your <em>friends</em>, and your <em>travel companions</em>, it concerns us when you suddenly seem to be in such a foul mood. It <em>also</em> concerns us when you're too drunk to hold your sword steady.” He bit out the words in a sharp, warning tone.</p>
<p>Adora planted her elbows on the edge of the table and buried her face in her hands, groaning. “I'm sorry. I am. <em>Forgive me</em>, I just...I'm not feeling myself tonight.” Bow nodded and pursed his lips in a slightly-smug, but mostly genuinely-relieved, look.</p>
<p>The rest of the meal passed in stilted silence, the sound of the bard playing old shanties and sung-myths filling the void. Adora was unable to tune it all out, but did her best to stay seated until the others were done eating and they could be off to their shared room. It was unfortunately still early, so that likely wouldn't be for some time still.</p>
<p>Bow and Glimmer seemed to be intent on watching the whole performance and Adora didn't want to explain why she <em>didn't</em> want to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the fifth song ended a man in the crowd piped up with a request for a song Catra had written two summers ago. She'd been in a fit of melancholy and spite when she wrote it, but it had become a popular song due to its relatable nature. She only played it when she felt like it, sometimes declining for fear of revisiting that uncomfortable state of heartache.</p>
<p>Other members of the audience chimed in, echoing his request, and she decided it was worth the ache. They'd likely tip well if she acquiesced. She could always drown her sorrows in wine when she was done.</p>
<p>“Alright, alright! I'll play it! You're a sad bunch of drunks tonight, aye?” She laughed and many others joined her, cheering quietly as she settled down on her stool and adjusted her lute.</p>
<p>Bow and Glimmer went back to watching the show, curious about the upcoming song that had drawn everyone's undivided attention.</p>
<p>Adora kept her head buried in her arms, hopeful that they'd dampen the sound.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heart, we will forget her!<br/>
You and I, tonight!<br/>
You may forget the warmth she gave,<br/>
I will forget the light.”</p>
<p>She sang in a slow, forlorn tune, her eyes closed and head lowered. Her fingers plucked slowly, playing soft notes in a gloomy minor key. The crowd all quieted down completely to avoid disturbing the mournful performance.</p>
<p>“When you have done, pray tell me,<br/>
That I my thoughts may flee;<br/>
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,<br/>
I may remember she!”</p>
<p>Adora's arms did not block out the sound and she found herself unable to resist, listening with bated breath. She'd never heard Catra play anything of her own.</p>
<p>This was an original song and an unfamiliar one to most anyone who hadn't spent time in the port-city of Salineas and the many cities along the major trade route it fed in the past few years.</p>
<p>It had been a while since Catra had ventured deeper into the less-populated heartland near Brightmoon, the best profits to be found in the port cities that saw heavy trade and had coin to burn.</p>
<p>“She of silken locks,</p>
<p>she of warmth and light.</p>
<p>She who held me close,</p>
<p>all through the cold of night."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adora felt her face flush and she wasn't sure if it was all of the drinks she'd hurried to imbibe or the sudden rush of memories that slammed into her like a boulder flung from a trebuchet. She couldn't help but sit upright and turn to face the stage now, enthralled.</p>
<p>It was totally possible that Catra was singing about someone else.</p>
<p>Adora was <em>certain</em> that she had to be, although it didn't stop her own heart from trying to leapt out of her throat at the words and the memories of a shared childhood that they conjured.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want now to forget her,</p>
<p>to heal my aching heart-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Catra took a deep breath and her fingers suddenly strummed a lilting tune in stark juxtaposition to the previously somber sound. She leapt from the stool and laughed out:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“-<em>so tonight I'll go tail-twitching</em></p>
<p><em>with some saucy little tart!</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her tail twitched wildly behind her for emphasis as she finished her now-upbeat strumming before bowing dramatically with a wide, proud grin. The patrons crowded around the open floor before the dais all clapped and laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adora couldn't help but sputter in response to a sudden, confusing and <em>overwhelming</em> rush of emotions.</p>
<p>She had been deeply immersed in the sadness of the song, believing it to be genuine.</p>
<p>Believing that she wasn't the only one who felt that way.</p>
<p>She'd thought for a brief moment that Catra had missed her, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She'd certainly <em>seemed</em> convincingly heartbroken until she'd <em>belted out</em> the last bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bow and Glimmer were staring hard at her now, she realized as she felt their eyes boring holes into her now scarlet-colored cheeks and shock-widened eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Just a Pinch of Salt in the Wound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Adora, are you alright?”<br/>Was she?<br/>There were wolves on her heels, ghosts howling in the night.<br/>Would she ever be free of them?<br/>"Just a pinch of salt in the wound, Adora. You'll be fine."<br/>~~~~<br/>Catra had been nearing the end of another rowdy drinking song when a scuffle had broken out and drawn the attention of many of the patrons along with her own. Her ears flicked toward the other end of the hall, where two barmaids were standing and speaking frantically among themselves. “-she'd just been flirtin' with me a little's all, but you know how Jamie is. He got jealous and he punched her square in the top teeth!”</p><p>Then the pair in question had rolled to a stop at her feet and she'd nearly had to scoop her jaw up from the floor.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note bc I feel like I need to specify: I imagine Adora more as a sort of untrained knight-hopeful, like a freelance fighter/barbarian. Low-level adventurer who hasn’t quite figured out their ‘class’ yet, if you will. No spoilers, but it is important to make that distinction for later on. An *actual* knight is a respected member of the Court. She's still working on the 'respected' part.</p><p>Fair warning: this chapter is going to have a fair amount of violence/blood. </p><p>There's also some memory/dream flashbacks. I hope I didn't make it a hard-to-read mess by having this one not be sequential.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>~~*~~</p><p>Adora looked up from her brother-in-arms, horror settling into her soul as she realized what she'd done.</p><p>The girl was still standing there, looking <em>right at her</em> with her blood-stained tunic and her shaking hands that were quickly losing their ability to hold onto her weapon. Her ears rang with deafening silence, her heartbeat the only sound for a long moment.</p><p>Icy bolts of returning awareness ran up her spine as she heard the crunch of snow beneath dozens of heavy boots behind her.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Run!</em>” She hissed, wide-eyed.</p><p> </p><p>The girl obeyed and Adora breathed a shallow, sharp gasp of relief when she saw the back of her thick coat disappear behind the trees at the base of the mountain.</p><p>It was short-lived, as the sounds of chaos and battle around her returned to her ears with painful, sudden clarity.</p><p>She dropped to her knees in the wine-red slush that had become the snow around the soldier, the din dying back down as her heartbeat slammed in her ears again like war-drums.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Her first time in the field, her first chance to prove her mettle to Hordak and earn herself a title...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And she'd...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She'd killed her comrade in defense of someone she didn't even know.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She'd been prepared for the eventuality that she'd end up having to kill some people, even princesses...but...she hadn't considered that one of those princesses might be a young girl, no more than eight years old.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She couldn't stand by and let him kill her, an innocent child who wasn't nearly fit for battle.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He'd been aiming right at her back with his crossbow, bolt set straight at her heart.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She couldn't do it, couldn't watch a young girl fall like that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So she'd raised her sword against him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He'd never thought to expect a blow from his cohort and fell instantly.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When Kyle scooped her up to her feet, Lonnie on her other side, she regained the ability to see and hear what was happening outside of her own mind.</p><p>Lonnie was yelling, shaking her. “<em>Adora!</em> Adora, what happened?!”</p><p>Kyle was pale, looking around frantically for Rogelio.</p><p>Adora inhaled and it felt like shattered glass was dragged in along with the frigid winter air.</p><p>Her tongue felt swollen.</p><p>Her throat was raw.</p><p>Her jaw was frozen.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>If she didn't say something soon they'd think she'd lost her mind. They'd never consider her fit to fight again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It didn't matter...as soon as they found out she'd done it they'd lock her in the dungeon below the Garnet Keep forever. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Th-the princess...the princess Frosta, she...” Her voice was broken and fragile as it came out, and Lonnie didn't have to try hard to speak over her as her face contorted in anger. “<em>Did she get away?</em> We have to take her down before she kills another of our men!”</p><p> </p><p>Before Adora could get another word out Lonnie was waving to Rogelio and they were sprinting off into the treeline in chase, Kyle hesitating for only long enough to make sure that Adora could stand on her own before following.</p><p> </p><p>She'd stayed there for a long time, hadn't bothered to count how long.</p><p>Eventually the others had come back.</p><p>They'd never caught up to the princess, but the battle had been over shortly after.</p><p>They'd carried the fallen back to their wagons and Adora had followed with mechanical motions.</p><p>The snow was trampled into red mud for as far as the eye could see, studded with sanguine pools from fallen on both sides of the line.</p><p> </p><p>She didn't speak at all again until she saw Catra a full day's hard ride later.</p><p> </p><p>She'd hidden away with her in their secret place in the abandoned, half-fallen Mage's tower above the Garnet Keep, and had told her everything.</p><p> </p><p>“Just a pinch of salt in the wound, Adora. It'll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>That was what they'd always told each other in moments of strife.</p><p>They'd been taught early on to treat their training- and battle-induced wounds properly, instructed to always carry a little satchel of blessed cleansing salt and apply as quickly as possible to prevent festering. That phrase had been a regular part of their childhood and eventually they'd adopted it for their own as a way to comfort each other. It was a secret code, meaning many things that could be spoken instead with their eyes as they hid their softness from the hard world around them.</p><p> </p><p>“As long as we're together, nothing really bad can happen, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>But something bad had happened.</p><p> </p><p>She'd murdered one of her fellows and they thought a child-princess had done it. And she'd let them keep thinking that.</p><p>Catra had insisted that she keep her secret. “If they already expected it to have been the crime of our enemy, why shatter that illusion? You never have to tell anyone else and you know it's safe with me. She was a <em>child</em>, it's understandable that you couldn't let harm come to her. Children have no place on the battlefield. It's a white-lie.”</p><p> </p><p>But life hadn't been fair.</p><p>They'd both had a part to play.</p><p>Hordak had expected total devotion from her, total numbness to the evil he asked of her.</p><p>And she'd been incapable of giving it.</p><p>~~*~~</p><p> </p><p>Adora sat bolt upright in her bed, a strangled half-scream/half-gasp still lingering on her lips. Sweat soaked her from head to toe, her blankets a stiflingly humid tangle around her hips and legs. Her panic-quickened heart slammed against her ribs and echoed in her head, deafening her to Glimmer's soft question the first time it was spoken. Only the second time, with Bow's voice joining hers, did Adora hear.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Adora, are you alright?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Was she?</em>
</p><p>There were wolves on her heels, ghosts howling in the night.</p><p>Would she ever be free of them?</p><p>
  <em>Just a pinch of salt in the wound, Adora. You'll be fine.</em>
</p><p>She no longer had her lifeline.</p><p> </p><p>When she didn't answer, her focus on drawing a steadying breath in the painfully loud silence of the room in the wake of the question, Glimmer leapt from her bed and rushed over. Adora put her hands up to stop her, dragging the bedclothes up to cover herself despite the awful feel of them in their current state.</p><p>She needed a barrier between herself and the world right now.</p><p>“I'm fine. Just a nightmare, is all.” Her tone was cool, but she managed to keep the ice of panic from cutting too deeply. She'd already snipped at Glimmer too many times tonight. Her friend didn't deserve it.</p><p>Glimmer seemed to take the hint and stopped half-way to Adora's bed, lingering for a moment before going back to her own.</p><p>They'd traveled together and spent their nights with her for nearing a year now. They'd witnessed her nightmares before, but usually she wasn't so loud as to actually worry them.</p><p> </p><p>Adora spent the rest of the night lying awake in the darkness and silence, milling over the events of the evening and brooding about them. Trying to forget the memories that haunted her in her sleep.</p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Earlier in the evening she'd recovered from her stupor at Catra's performance and managed to turn her back to the stage once more. It had taken a long moment to figure out what to say to her companions once she was facing them completely.</p><p>She'd settled on “<em>I need mead!</em>”</p><p>Glimmer and Bow had exchanged a loaded look, but neither of them had actually pressed the matter.</p><p>So she'd proceeded to hail the barmaid four times over the course of the next few songs, swallowing pint after pint of anything she could wrangle in record time.</p><p>Bow had insisted that she stop at that point and she'd found herself standing there raising her voice at him and telling him that she didn't need to be looked after like a child.</p><p> </p><p>That had drawn a bit of attention, though the now-rowdy crowd in the middle of the large room did much to drown her out.</p><p> </p><p>He'd tried to convince her to sit back down, but she'd stumbled away toward the gathering of people to seek out the maid she'd been calling on all night. She'd flirted and the wench had seemed more than pleased with the advances.</p><p>She'd seek her out and drown her sorrows in her sweet and ample bosom if she could have no more mead.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That had been the plan, anyway.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When she'd arrived and slung her arm over the girl's shoulder she'd been met with gleeful giggling and rosy cheeks.</p><p>Immediately followed by a gruff voice coming from close behind her. “<em>Oy</em>, what're you up to then, lassie?”</p><p>Adora slid her arm from its perch slowly, turning with the sluggish movements of a body dulled by heavy drink. “Well, I <em>was</em> about to speak sweetly to this comely creature, before you rudely interrupted me.” She snorted out in laughter as her eyes took in the grizzled, grey-and-brown haired man who stood just a few hands taller than her.</p><p>The sound of mirth died in her throat when a rather large fist connected at incredible speed with her nose. Her face crunched sickeningly, the taste of blood immediately flooding her mouth.</p><p>Then she saw red, fury blinding her and leading her actions faster than her mind could keep up.</p><p> </p><p>They were then on the floor, each trying to land a hit faster than the other as they grappled and scrambled for the upper-hand.</p><p>Adora was doing fine at holding her own until they rolled out into the middle of the room in their scuffle, where the crowd had parted to allow them to pass and avoid injury themselves.</p><p>She'd looked up and her eyes had met Catra's, now blown wide with slack-jawed shock.</p><p>She was standing on the dais still, towering directly above the floor where Adora lay on her back and now struggled to hold off her opponent.</p><p>His shoulders were far wider than her own, his upper arms solid like the trunks of cedar saplings. She only managed to deflect some of the blows, many of them connecting with her jaw and the side of her head before she could get away.</p><p>The struggle had ended then as Bow and Glimmer swept in and stopped the man's companions from joining the fray.</p><p>When the chaos of breaking up the brawl died down Adora looked back to the dais, unsure whether she wanted to be dreaming or not.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Catra wasn't there.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The owner had kicked them out then and it had taken Bow several hours and a sizable amount of coin to buy Adora's forgiveness and their collective welcome. He'd had to promise that she wouldn't get drunk and start any more fights during their stay, although the keep did mention that the man who she'd been fighting with had a tendency to start trouble on his own most of the time.</p><p> </p><p>Glimmer had done her best to heal Adora's nose, but it still ached as she'd laid down to rest at nearing midnight. Her swollen jaw and busted lips throbbed despite the magical treatment.</p><p>Sleep had been unkind, bringing the nightmares with it.</p><p>
  <em>There was always salt in the wound. Usually more than a pinch.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It always stung, though it healed.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Catra had been nearing the end of another rowdy drinking song when a scuffle had broken out and drawn the attention of many of the patrons along with her own. Her ears flicked toward the other end of the hall, where two barmaids were standing and speaking frantically among themselves. <em>“-she'd just been flirtin' with me a little's all, but you know how Jamie is. He got jealous and he punched her square in the top teeth!”</em></p><p> </p><p>Then the pair in question had rolled to a stop at her feet and she'd nearly had to scoop her jaw up from the floor.</p><p><em>Adora</em> was here, currently straddled by a man many years her senior and a full head taller than her who was reared back for an outrageous strike to her jaw.</p><p>And she simply <em>stared</em> up at Catra like an idiot while he pummeled her a few more times before some others arrived to break up the fight.</p><p>Catra didn't wait to see what happened after that, sprinting from the room with her lute in-hand and tearing around the corner, then up the staircase to her room.</p><p>She needed time to figure out what to say, if it really was Adora. <em>It was Adora. She'd been bleeding like a stuck boar and Catra knew that scent, even after all these years.</em></p><p>If she really wanted to say anything at all.</p><p>Maybe she didn't.</p><p>She wasn't sure yet.</p><p> </p><p><em>'Night Mother, help me out, just a pinch. Have I not done you enough service for just one favor in return?' </em>Catra sent a silent prayer up to one of the Gods she wasn't always sure she even believed in as she ran.</p><p>When her door clicked shut behind her she sat her lute down on the nearby side table and slumped against it, panting as she fought down the panic that had surged in her heart like the dark waters of the North Sea roiling at high tide.</p><p>“<em>Mother</em>, please...what do I do? I-” She buried her face in her hands and dragged in a shallow breath that tried to force itself to become a sob, but she fought against it and ended up croaking softly. Her tail lashed, thumping against the door in its dance and beating out a little cacophonous tune.</p><p>As if the Gods <em>could</em> hear her, a soft breeze drifted in through her window and ruffled the long satin curtains that hung there.</p><p> </p><p>It smelled like dew and night-blooming flowers, a symphony of scents she'd grown so familiar with that they all clung to her life like perfume to a courtier.</p><p> </p><p>Adora's favorite had always been the strange pipe-cactus flowers, with all their dozens of long, paper-thin petals and tall, fuzzy centers. She'd always said that they made her think of Catra: <em>“They're clamped shut and all prickles and spines in the daytime, but when night falls and they're left undisturbed they bloom and become soft as silk”.</em></p><p> </p><p>Catra snarled and banged her fists on the door behind her, eyes squeezed shut as she grimaced. “What kind of a message is <em>that</em>?!”</p><p>The kind she didn't want to hear<em>, that's what.</em> “You<em> relish </em>my<em> torture</em>?” She whined aloud and her inner voice was cold in return, sounding so much like Shadow Weaver. <em>'The Trials would seem to imply that, did you not pay attention?' </em></p><p> </p><p>She could hear the door to the inn bang open, then the noise of the crowd filtered out into the night and floated up to her window.</p><p>“-she didn't mean no harm, I <em>know</em> it-”</p><p>“-can't have her causing trouble! I'm trying to run a fine sort of establishment, here!”</p><p>“But you <em>know</em> how Jaime is! He picks a fight wi' everyone who comes through here and settles eyes on me. Why can't you make <em>him</em> leave?”</p><p>“Now, you know why-” The innkeeper's voice trailed off as they went back inside.</p><p> </p><p>There was the sound of boots shuffling out toward the road and the heavy door slammed shut once more, the din of the inside dying down a little as its secondary path was cut off.</p><p>Now Adora stood directly below her room, in the moonlit street. Catra <em>knew, </em>even without looking out the window.</p><p>Her scent was unmistakable, though it was carrying with it the smell of too many drinks and the coppery tang of spilled blood.</p><p> </p><p>There were other people with her.</p><p>Catra listened intently, her ears turning toward the open window before she'd even processed that she was eavesdropping.</p><p>“<em>Adora, we can't leave yet!</em> We have to deliver <em>some</em> kind of news. She's <em>already paid</em> us half, and we need her favor!” A young man's hissing voice was bordering hysterical.</p><p>“Ugh, we're going to have to walk <em>all the way out of town</em> to make camp. You really <em>have</em> been acting strange, tonight, you know. It's a pain in the ass.” An unknown young woman sounded irritated, but otherwise unbothered.</p><p>Adora groaned and growled in discomfort and Catra knew exactly what she was doing as she heard the wet crunching sound of her nose resettling beneath her own hand. She'd certainly been hit in the face enough times in her life to know when her nose was broken and how to fix it.</p><p>The mental image was almost enough to make Catra chuckle.</p><p>“<em>Sorry</em>, guys, <em>really</em>. I just-” Adora's voice was garbled by her blood-filled sinuses and already-swelling lips.</p><p>“<em>You just</em> decided to get <em>absolutely</em> in your cups for some bizarre, unknown reason and got into a <em>bar brawl</em> while we're trying to finish a job!” The boy again, angry and pitchy.</p><p>So she was here working as some kind of mercenary, perhaps.</p><p>She'd been staying at the inn, too, then.</p><p>Catra wondered how she hadn't noticed it sooner.</p><p>
  <em>'What a shame. This was a fun little town.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When she heard their boots begin to crunch in the gravel of the path headed toward the stables Catra straightened her spine and her doublet.</p><p>With them kicked out of the inn she'd might as well take advantage of one last night before she took off.</p><p>She gathered her lute and headed back downstairs to play a few more songs, after a brief stop at the bar to wet her throat.</p><p>The wench that Adora had been flirting with was seated on the knee of the man who'd been pummeling her, looking <em>everything</em> but happy about her position. Her cheeks were damp and the man's massive hand was clamped possessively on the back of her neck. Catra could smell her stress from all the way over here.</p><p>She could hear the uneasy breathing that threatened at becoming hiccups.</p><p>Catra felt a trickle of hot rage run down her spine and had to fight to keep her tail and ears from betraying her fury.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Maybe she'd find a few more things to do before leaving town.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She was barely able to muster it within herself to play another small set, three whole pints needed to loosen her up enough to sing again. Her eyes never left the barmaid, or the beast of a man that was holding onto her as though he owned her.</p><p>When the night had grown old, and Catra could not fake her smile any longer, she bid the crowd goodnight and settled into a booth to refresh herself once again.</p><p>Eventually the pig let the girl go so that she might return to her duties, leaving him to guzzle a few more drinks of his own before standing on wobbling knees.</p><p>Catra went quickly upstairs to replace her lute and don her Nightclothes.</p><p> </p><p>Despite all of her drinking she was lightning-quick, already crouching in the windowsill as he stumbled around the corner of the inn and into the alley beside.</p><p>She didn't bother to pull up her mask, although she did tug her cowl up over her ears, and leapt down into the alley behind him with just a small <em>crunch </em>of gravel.</p><p>“Oy, turn around, you gargantuan prick!” She didn't yell, but made sure that her voice was loud enough for him to hear.</p><p>He turned and looked with narrowed eyes at the dark silhouette of her, backlit by the lights of the street behind her. Her lightweight leather armor was snug and flexible to allow her totally unrestricted movement, hugging to her like a charcoal-colored second-skin.</p><p>“Wha's a pretty little thing like you doin' out here all by yerself, and with such a sharp tongue? Don't you know it's dangerous t' be out 'ere alone at night? It's the sort of hours when only beasts wander the alleyways...” His voice was greasy and menacing, implying only the darkest intent as he began to stalk toward her.</p><p>She narrowed her glowing, heterochromatic eyes and took a few silent steps forward. Her feral, fang-filled smirk was hidden behind the shade of her cowl. “<em>I know</em>.” Before he had an opportunity to make any more noise or utter any more nonsense Catra rushed at him, her dagger already in-hand.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't much of a fight.</p><p> </p><p>She could see perfectly in the dark, had the element of surprise, and possessed more than a decade of training for specifically this purpose.</p><p>He was a drunken fool and drowned in a pool of his own piss and blood in that alleyway, stinking of booze and sweat and fear.</p><p> </p><p>As Catra was darting out of the alley to find a far-off rooftop to brood on she crashed into someone coming around the corner at breakneck speed.</p><p>She managed to catch herself before falling all the way to the ground, but the person who'd knocked her back hadn't been so lucky. He lay sprawled in the dirt and mud of the carriage-ruts, groaning in confusion.</p><p>She leapt over him and took off into the shadows, praying to the Mother that he hadn't seen her face. She should've pulled up her mask sooner.</p><p> </p><p>~~</p><p> </p><p>Bow sat upright and rubbed at his head just as Glimmer and Adora were leading their horses to a stop in front of the inn where they'd planned to meet him. “<em>Bow</em>, what happened? Did he kick you out again?” Glimmer knelt down and helped him up, brushing off his shoulders and coughing when dust flew around them in a large cloud.</p><p>“No, no...someone ran into me-” He looked around frantically, finding no sign of anyone else. “-I swear, they were <em>just</em>here...”</p><p>Movement caught Adora's eye off to her left and she watched as a shadowy figure leapt onto a cottage roof and then disappeared, so quickly it made her wonder if she'd even really seen it. Before she could think too much about it through the fog of her headache, Bow continued.</p><p>“The innkeep said that we can stay, on the condition that Adora not drink too much from now on. That guy apparently picks fights pretty often, but he's the Captain of the guard so there's not much to be done about it. <em>We're to avoid him.</em>Hopefully morning's light doesn't bring with it news that he's looking to arrest us. The keep says he thinks it's unlikely. I did mention that we were working for the Countess, when it seemed like I was going to run out of things to say to sway him. I <em>also</em> had to pay for the damages, which has left us woefully short of coin, <em>I'd like to add</em>.”</p><p>Adora buried her face in shame. “Bow, I'm in your debt-”</p><p>“Yes, I know.” he interjected.</p><p>Glimmer scoffed. “Don't rub salt in her wound, Bow. It's unlike you to be spiteful. That's usually my duty.”</p><p>Adora's breath hitched at the unintentionally stabbing wording. <em>'-salt in the wound, Adora, you'll be alright.'</em></p><p>“Well, we'll have to walk on eggshells around the Countess now. If she's unhappy with us we may very well end up in the dungeon.”</p><p>With that they'd taken their horses back to the stables and gone up to their room, thankful that Bow had been able to convince the owner to let them stay after all. The beds here were much more comfortable than their bedrolls on the stony ground.</p><p>Unfortunately for Adora, the comfort of the bed didn't ever do much to bring peaceful sleep.</p><p> </p><p>~~</p><p> </p><p>Catra was sitting on the roof of the far-off guardhouse, panting as she tried to catch her breath. It had been a reckless and difficult climb to get here, as she'd realized who it was she'd encountered and the knowledge made her clumsy as it overwhelmed her mind. His scent was one of those she'd smelled when Adora had been standing in the street below with two other people.</p><p>She'd almost been caught leaving the body by the exact people she'd been most purposefully avoiding.</p><p> </p><p>Before she could calm herself and reckon all of the events of the evening she felt the tug of magick on her wrist.</p><p>The String of Shadows- Shadow Weaver's parasitic way of scrying into Catra's mind to contact her. It was a spell that drained the user on both ends and being an inexperienced magick user, Catra had very little in the way of mana to give. Shadow Weaver only used this one when there was a message too urgent to send by raven's wing or Sibling.</p><p>She fought the urge to groan in discomfort as her wrist throbbed beneath the drain of it. Shadow Weaver's voice came to her, drifting slowly up her arm and shoulder into her ear like the oozing girth of some ancient sea monster's tentacle. <em>“Catra. I spoke with the Mother about your work's completion. You're not headed home yet, are you?”</em></p><p>“No, Shadow Weaver. I'm still in Honnleath.”</p><p>“<em>Oh, good, child. I do so love when you actually do well in your duties. I need you to stay put just a touch longer. I've learned from one of your Siblings that there is a party there that belongs to Angella's Court and we need to gather more information. We know only that someone high in rank is traveling with only a few companions and trying to persuade the neutral parties to join her cause before Hordak is able to conquer them. We cannot allow her to grow her forces, it would risk too many valuable resources of our own to fight unnecessary battles.”</em></p><p>Catra felt dread worm its way up her spine. “I-is there not another Sibling who could take this task? I-”</p><p>“<em>Catra!” </em>The familiar tingle of dark lightning bit at her wrist and seared its way up her arm until her whole neck and chest were blooming in pain like a moonflower of hate and anger. <em>“Would you shirk your duty to the Mother?”</em></p><p>Catra gasped softly and moaned quietly, in agony. “N-no! No, <em>never</em>, Shadow Weaver!” She whispered, her voice strained and low.</p><p>The burning stopped and she felt the magick recede back down the length of her arm and disappear into the night. Only the String remained still, Shadow Weaver's lingering presence malicious but cold and calm once more. <em>“Good. Do not disappoint me, child.”</em></p><p>The strange thread untangled now from her wrist and drifted back into the Void, leaving her wrist aching where it had been tied too tightly. Shadow Weaver <em>had</em> always had a heavy hand with Catra.</p><p> </p><p>After a long moment of silence and deep breathing Catra sat upright and ran her hands through her hair, shaking her mane out into the breeze. “<em>Salt in the wound,</em> Catra.” She muttered to herself and stood to stretch her arms above her languidly after slapping her left wrist to bid the discomfort a not-so-fond farewell.</p><p>Despite her discomfort and eagerness to leave this place it appeared that she would be remaining for the time-being. Hopefully she wouldn't run into Adora and her companions while she finished up her own business. It would all be much easier for her if she could just do her work and then leave without incident.</p><p> </p><p>Too bad life hadn't ever been fair to her.</p><p> </p><p>She managed to sneak back into her room unnoticed, but sleep never came that night. At early dawn her eyes finally drifted shut and she fell immediately into the same nightmare she had every time the memories of her Trials reared their ugly heads.</p><p> </p><p>~~*~~</p><p>Shadow Weaver stood behind the worn-stone lectern, the ceremonial dagger in her hand as she began to trace the shapes of runes in the air before her with it and her free hand, palm out. A dark miasma began to flow from her palm, inching out into the chamber like a mist rolling across a bog.</p><p> </p><p>Catra had never had much luck with Magick. She’d been too terrified of it to ever consider learning. Besides that, Shadow Weaver had made sure that she knew it was off-limits to her.</p><p> </p><p>The first part of the Trials was upon her now: The Cleaving.</p><p>She would be carved from the world of the living with a dagger made of sharpened shadows. All of her worldly tethers would be taken away and she would start over with only an Apprentice's garb, gifted to her by the Night Mother's Acolytes. She would live in communal quarters with the others and renounce all of her past relationships and wealth. She would no longer be allowed outside in the daylight, at least until she'd finished her Trials and proven her loyalty.</p><p> </p><p>Shadow Weaver held the dagger out with one hand, guiding the fog of Magick toward Catra and coiling it around her. With her other hand she reached into her robes and withdrew a folded letter that was soft and creased with wear from repeated use. Catra inhaled sharply in surprise and the not-quite-smoke took its opportunity to rush into her lungs and sear her from the inside.</p><p>“Catra, do you know what this is?”</p><p>Catra couldn't speak around the stinging acid, her throat constricting painfully in response to the shadows that had passed through it.</p><p>“Your last worldly tether.”</p><p>Catra fought back tears of fear. Electricity flashed in every part of her body now as Shadow Weaver's tendrils of darkness lifted her bodily from the floor.</p><p>“I read this entire thing, you know. It's quite hilarious. All her promises of finding your families together. Of going to the Coast.” She clicked her tongue and smirked with no real sign of humor. “Dear child, did you <em>really</em> think that she would return for you and risk her own freedom? Hordak wants her head for her betrayal.<em> I should have you deliver it.</em>”</p><p>Catra growled, struggling against her shadowy bonds and earning more pain for the effort.</p><p>“Catra, calm yourself. There's no point in getting all worked up. If I need to I can search your memories and wipe her away completely, though I can't guarantee that it won't damage your mind.”</p><p>“<em>NO!</em>” Catra found her voice now and Shadow Weaver chuckled at her response.</p><p>“Fine. I will leave you with your memories and your silly heartache, though you <em>will</em> swear your fealty to the Mother and renounce <em>all</em> claims on your heart.”</p><p>Catra hesitated, her tail lashing as she considered what that really meant. She'd be cursed by the Night Mother if she chose to give her word and then later went back on it. What that <em>actually</em> meant was beyond anyone's guess. The Mother chose her punishments accordingly and generally did not warn the recipients that they'd be receiving them.</p><p>Shadow Weaver burned the letter up between her fingers with magical fire and Catra had to bite back tears. That had been the last letter Adora had sent to her after she'd disappeared a year ago.</p><p>Shadow Weaver clicked her tongue and sauntered closer, running a slender finger under Catra's chin and bringing it to rest on her cheek tenderly. “Dear child, it's really not so bad. She never loved you as you loved her, anyway. Move on with your life, find your purpose.”</p><p>Catra bit down hard on her lip to draw her mind from the aching in her heart and her still-suspended body.</p><p>Shadow Weaver grabbed a hold of her tail, yanking it roughly and drawing the dagger close to its base. “Do you need to be persuaded further?”</p><p>Catra's will had broken, then.</p><p> </p><p>Shadow Weaver, satisfied that her threats had worked sufficiently, meandered back to her earlier place before the Book of Night. She used her magick to drag Catra closer, holding her hand out without looking up from the ancient tome. “Give me your hand, child.”</p><p>Catra reached a shaking hand slowly out against the resistance of the flurry that held her, like moving through muddy water. Shadow Weaver grasped her wrist and drew the dagger around it in a circle, barely breaking the skin and bringing forth a thin streak of blood that beaded up like the fine chain of a bracelet all 'round.</p><p>A single droplet of blood hovered in the air above the page for a moment after it fell from her skin. Shadow Weaver chanted a spell that Catra hadn't ever heard before and then the drop stretched out into a string and wound itself into the shape of her name, drifting down to settle on the page.</p><p>“Your name is in the Ledger, now. Just below my own.”</p><p> </p><p>There was nothing left for her in the world of daylight. She welcomed the night.</p><p>~~*~~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's been like two days and I'm already posting the next chapter.<br/>Please don't expect this to be the rate I keep this one updated at, I'd hate to disappoint. I will update as regularly as I can, but I wrote the first two chapters in a fever of inspiration and I can't promise that it'll stay.</p><p>Everyone say thanks to SombraSwitch for sending me the greatest folk music playlist that gave me the creative-fever I used to power through these chapters. It's all I can listen to rn and it's all the perfect vibes for this fic.</p><p>For everyone waiting on me to finish up the last few chapters of Aftermath: I'm sorry. This one has grabbed a hold of me and won't let go. I swear I'll finish it soon. This one's just new and shiny and so much fun to write.</p><p>For those of you who'd like to, you can follow me on Twitter @TardisOwl<br/>I post info about my fics, random nerdy things, and occasionally doodles like Bard!Catra.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Tail-twitching is a real slang term for sex from the 1800's and I think it's hilarious<br/>**The song Catra 'wrote' is an Emily Dickinson poem that I gender-swapped and added some stuff to. The other song is an actual drinking song.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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